


How to Become a God of Death

by Park_Yee



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Minor Religious Themes, Smut, Supernatural - Freeform, but not that important, minor death note and goblin references, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 15:14:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10281905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Park_Yee/pseuds/Park_Yee
Summary: Byun Baekhyun is a centuries-old death god in the bustling city of Seoul, South Korea.  Park Chanyeol is his freshly deceased apprentice-in-training that may or may not have a bit of a crush on the seasoned mentor.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've had this posted on AFF for a few weeks already, but lately I spend more of my fanfic reading time here than anywhere else. I'm also getting ready to finish up the sequel for How to Become a God of Death so I thought, why the hell not? If you read the warnings, you know there's smut. Yeah. If you don't like it, turn back now. Outside of that, I hope everyone enjoys it! I really appreciate all of the love and support that I've gotten for this piece, and I really want to thank everyone that has encouraged me. As always, comments and kudos are highly appreciated! -Park Yee

      **Death is a funny thing.** Perhaps not in the most comedic sense of the word, nor in any way that most would find relatable or entertaining, but waking up on a steel slab in the city morgue, a sheet enclosed around his exposed midsection with a tiny, handwritten tag tightened around his big toe and not actually being able to remember how he got there, well, Chanyeol would be one to find that pretty damn hilarious, if not entirely unbelievable.

     There was never any question in his mind that he was dead. No hesitation, no panic. One moment he was all there, hanging out with a group of buddies on leave, knocking back shots of soju and celebrating his twenty-fourth birthday, not even considering or appreciating what was ahead of him until it wasn't anymore. He couldn't feel his heartbeat when he woke up on the table. He never noticed it before, that he could always hear it, feel it. That, and all of the other bodily functions he had neglected to notice. Did he ever have problems blinking his eyes before? Did he ever forget to do so? Was that even possible? They weren't dry. They didn't hurt. Did he even need to shut his eyelids? He did, anyways, practicing, like anyone that was still alive wouldn't have to do. Open. Closed. Open and closed again.

     The man’s skin wasn't cold, but it wasn't warm either. It fell somewhere into the realm of in-between, which wouldn't be so entirely unpleasant if Chanyeol was more inclined to it. As it was, he had always been a warm person. He had always been like a kind of furnace, his own furnace, and suddenly to be so in the middle was unsettling to him.

     He was pale, too. That much was obvious. His ordinarily bronzed, golden pigment was replaced with an almost translucent film of flesh, his veins like a network of winding tree branches beneath the surface. He flexed his stiff fingers, toes, joints, before finally throwing one leg over the side of the slab. The sheet was useless - in Chanyeol’s opinion - yet he still unfolded it and continued to wrap the piece of cloth around his waist, covering what he could but certainly not enough.

“I see you're up, finally.” Chanyeol didn't recognize the voice. It was that of a man, cocky and animated but not too terribly deep. When he turned towards the doorway, which was open, seemingly leading into a dark, empty hallway lined with sterile white tiles, he found that the voice fit the body.

“What's with the face? I know I'm hot, but I see no reason to stare.” His eyes were dark, like the soft locks of hair that draped his forehead, and were sparkling with mischief and amusement. They had a feline tilt to them, the outer edges smudged with traces of charcoal, making them even more exaggerated than they already were. And the way he strutted towards the living dead was like sex on legs, if sex was a tight-bodied sprite with glimmering skin and a lusty gaze levelled directly at him.

“Seriously, most people would be all, _Oh, why am I here? I couldn't have died! Why me?!_ ” he cried, threw his hands up in the air for dramatic effect and wiped at a fake tear. “Not you, though. You're just standing there, eye-fucking me.” He paused, shrugged lightly. “I can appreciate that in a person.”

     The man stalked closer, pushing an index finger against Chanyeol’s smooth, alabaster chest. “Sit,” he ordered, before running an even glance up and down the man in front of him. “Nice abs, by the way. Military, right?”

     Whatever trance Chanyeol had managed to fall into, the sudden mention had him quickly snapping out of it. Maybe it was the fact that _military_ was how he was conditioned to see himself. Military was what he was, who he was, since the moment he graduated from high school and began the process of early enlistment. And as far as Chanyeol was concerned, it was the only thing he knew to be true at the moment.

“N-ne. Navy, actually.” The man smiled. His brilliantly white teeth gleamed as he stared down at Chanyeol.

“Explains the muscles,” he traced his burning hot fingers down one of Chanyeol’s biceps. He retracted, moving then instead to cradle the back of Chanyeol’s head.

“What's your name, kid?” The fingers prodded gently along his scalp.

“Park Chanyeol, ROK Navy, division-”

“Don't need your credentials, just your name. Does this hurt?”

     He wasn't sure what he was supposed to be feeling besides the delicate pressure of the other’s hands, but he was sure that it didn't hurt. “No,” he mustered.

     The man offered a gentle smile. “You don't ask many questions, do you? You're not in the navy anymore, Mr. Park. You can ask.”

“Where am I?”

“There it is,” he grinned, withdrawing his hands completely with an impressive sigh. “Fascinating.”

“What is?”

“You,” the man didn't miss a beat, “not everyday I get someone like you in here.” He moved to collect a folder from the edge of a stainless steel desk in the corner of the room. “This is the city morgue, to answer your previous question. Yangcheon-gu.”

“Yangcheon-gu? But I-”

“You were supposed to be in Mapo-gu, yes, I know, but we couldn't have you waking up and scaring the shit out of some poor, clueless medical examiner, could we? Think of it as my obligation to step in and save the humans from unnecessary psyche evals and investigations when possible.” He thumbed through the packet of papers inside without so much as another glance at the male on the table. Chanyeol shifted, thankful he was already sitting down, because the word _humans_ , muttered with slight distaste and an obvious separation of terms, left the bones in his legs feeling weak.

“Who are you, exactly?” his eyes wide and his voice only partially steady, the question made him feel like a child. _What is this? Who are you? Who am I?_ He hated feeling small, helpless.

      The man looked up from his papers now. His lips curved up in a confident display of a smirk as his hand extended yet again, encasing Chanyeol’s own with a look of satisfaction. “Kim Minseok. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” The fingers tightened, grasping at the younger’s defined wrist. “You can consider me one with both worlds - the humans,” he leaned in, breath ghosting over the side of Chanyeol’s face, “and us.” He pulled away again, obviously not one to fully give into any of the impulses he teased.

“I suppose there's not a word for it in your language, at least not one that would make a lot of sense to you.” The question _what are you_ clearly hadn't needed to be voiced.

“Am I really,” he struggled to fit his mouth around the word, “dead?”

     The man, Minseok, hummed thoughtfully. He knew more than he let on to, more than he was willing to tell, that much Chanyeol was sure of. “It depends on your definition of the word. You're not breathing.” He pressed the same index finger from before atop his windpipe. “Your heart isn't pumping blood.” He tapped the finger on Chanyeol’s sternum for the purpose of the sound it produced. “But you're not dead. Oh no, you’re very much alive.” He took a seat on a small stool situated next to the table, causing Chanyeol to look down at him now. “You don't feel it yet, but you will.”

     His answers were vague, the ones that he did give, and what was left unsaid was a whole hell of a lot to think about. Unfortunately, he was utterly aware that this was a game to Minseok. He could see it in the man’s smile, in his eyes, even in the way he grazed Chanyeol's skin with just the very tips of his fingers and nothing more. It was all a game, and Chanyeol knew that Minseok thought he was winning. He had the answers, after all.

“What am I doing here?” It wasn't pointless, he told himself. A vague answer is better than no answer at all.

“I'm afraid I can't answer that. Wouldn't want to spoil the surprise. Master Baekhyun will be here soon enough to collect.”

     Minseok unbuttoned his white lab coat, which Chanyeol only then realized he was wearing. Beneath was a pair of leather pants fitted snugly to his lean, muscled legs. He wore expensive, alligator skin boots, making him seem several centimeters taller than he actually was, and a starched crimson-colored dress shirt left open at the top. The uppermost part of his chest was left on display, as well as a portion of his jutting collarbones.

“Who is-”

“Master Baekhyun. I work for him, in a sense. But let's not talk about him now.” Minseok shrugged the coat the rest of the way off of his shoulders and made a show of unclasping the remaining buttons of his shirt. “I told you that I don't get many guys like you in here.” He raised himself, then lowered to Chanyeol’s level. His lips danced against the younger’s jawline. “But I've never seen one as attractive as you before.” The lips were more insistent now as they traveled lower, along his neck. One of his hands sought purchase on Chanyeol's knee, running higher while his mouth sank lower.

“Wait. We shouldn't-”

“Shh,” he hushed, pulling away only momentarily to meet the other’s eyes. “We only have a few minutes. Just sit back, and enjoy.” Just as he was about to surge forward again, back dipping and legs tightening around his waist, there was a sudden, rather pointed cough in the direction of the doorway.

“Shit.” Minseok actually did pull away this time, dragging a thumb along the corner of his mouth as he gained footing on the cement floor again. “You always ruin all of my fun.”

     Chanyeol stiffened, clutching the cloth at his waist in the process. If he wasn't painfully aware of how thin it was before, he was now. Dead or not, nearly five years spent aboard various vessels and ships, completely deprived of men like Minseok or men with Minseok’s considerable… abilities, it was perhaps catching up with him.

“Don't worry about it, babe,” Minseok mumbled with a very suggestive glance down at the developing situation beneath Chanyeol’s cloth. “There's a bit of a learning curve with these things once you’ve, you know, bit the dust and all.” He straightened, pulling his gaze away to stare directly at the guest, brushing his hair away from his forehead as he did so.

“Corrupting my recruits again, Minseok?” The newcomer’s voice was even smoother, more melodious than that of the invasive medical examiner. The mostly nude male bit back a groan as he found, turning his body halfway around on the table, that whatever type of non-human Minseok was, it clearly didn't come in ugly.

“I have no idea what you're talking about, Master Baekhyun.” There was a devilish twinkle in Minseok’s eyes, but Chanyeol found that his beauty seemed to almost dim in comparison to this new master.

     He, too, wore all dark clothing. Tight and pricey, adorned with a silver watch, simple rings, and a subtle combination of face products that only appeared to enhance his natural beauty. The makeup was thicker around his sultry, hooded eyes, with hues of gold and maroon intermixed in his smudged black liner. His lips, pouty and pink, may have been tinted as well, but Chanyeol found it hard to tell. Opposed to Minseok’s chocolate brown strands, Baekhyun’s were jet black. It contrasted nicely with his milky white skin but still managed to look somewhat natural to him. If Chanyeol could only ever use one word to sum him up, exquisite.

     Minseok scowled suddenly, stalking away from Chanyeol to rummage through a metal cabinet beside his desk. He pulled out a large, clear bag. Chanyeol guessed, quite correctly, the contents to be the clothes he had worn on his last night alive. The man tossed him the bag haphazardly.

“You can have him when you want him. I already handled all of the necessary paperwork.”

“No wonder why I love you, Minnie.” Minseok, in return, puffed out a sarcastic chortle at the remark.

     Neither man bothered to turn around for Chanyeol to change, but rather looked at him expectantly, Minseok challengingly. Chanyeol had never been one to back down from a challenge, and even half hard and flushed with embarrassment, stripped away the piece of cloth, shrugging on his Rolling Stones t-shirt and simple cargo pants while more or less maintaining direct eye contact with said male.

“Well then,” the beautiful man laughed quietly to himself, “let's get going then.”

 

      **Living humans could still see him.** Maybe that was the hardest part for Chanyeol to believe, though there were several parts of Baekhyun's brief explanation that he found himself to be struggling with, such as the angel-like man actually being an elder god of death or he, himself, being made into the Death God’s apprentice-in-training. It was all hard to take, hard to understand, but if any of his childhood supernatural knowledge was at all relevant, people shouldn't have been able to see him. Baekhyun didn't seem to mind, even as they ducked out of some dimly lit alley from which that had magically poofed into (Chanyeol was still not sure by this point if he was dreaming or not), or as they meandered alongside a crowd of afternoon shoppers and stopped in a classy, clearly overpriced café in what Chanyeol thought must have been Gangnam-gu. He was even calm as he sat down at a two-person table facing the window and ordered the both of them a pot of kimchi jjigae to share. In fact, he was far too astonishingly calm for the current predicament. At least, in Chanyeol's opinion.

“Er, Master Baekhyun.” He paused. Though, he did manage to gain the other’s full attention, which had been lost since the mouthwatering sight of fresh food.

“Hmm?” he hummed around the spoon between his lips. There was a bit of soup at the corner of them, as well as a grain or two of steamed rice on the collar of his shirt. He wondered if all minor gods were messy eaters or if that was particular to Baekhyun.

“Why can they see us?” Chanyeol looked at the people around them, mostly couples, along with a few small families and an obnoxiously cute waitress that had been sizing Baekhyun up for a number of minutes already. Not that he was jealous or anything, of course.

     Baekhyun laughed suddenly, a real laugh that began in the form of a shocked choke but somehow evened out into the cutest noise Chanyeol had ever heard in his twenty-four years of life. His eyes turned into two glittering crescents beneath the creases his smile formed, and Chanyeol was just about ready stick a big, glowing, “kill me now” sign on his forehead when he remembered with a start that he was already dead and that's how he got stuck eating dinner with an undeniably attractive god.

“We’re not ghosts, Chanyeol. And please,” he grinned, “don't call me Master Baekhyun. I've been telling Minseok to knock that shit off for the last century and a half.”

     It was the apprentice’s turn to blanch at the statement. He earned it, he figured, even if he couldn't necessarily control it. He'd been a pretty good sport, after all. He died. Park Chanyeol was dead. Even if he was sitting in some high-end restaurant that he could never have afforded on his military salary, with a man-death god that was way the hell out of his league, Chanyeol was still dead. And the fact that he didn't know what in the hell Minseok was, what he could even call him, was a less than gentle reminder that he didn't really know what he should call himself either.

“And Minseok is,” he trailed off, letting his silence ask the question for him. Baekhyun grinned knowingly.

“I'm sure he already told you, but there is no word for it in Korean. The closest translation would probably seer.” Baekhyun twirled the straw in his soft drink. “He's more than that, though. Sure, he can see us, but he can also affect us in ways that we can't even affect each other. He can manipulate us. What we want, what we think, what we see.”

“But you're more powerful than him?”

“Of course. The longer you're alive, the more effort you put into your own power, the less effect his can have over you.” He socked a bit of seasoned soybean sprouts in his mouth with a contemplative gesture. “I've been living for a long time. I can block him entirely, if I feel like it, but if I hadn't known him for so long, I would be weary of his abilities. Like you should be.”

     Chanyeol nodded. He had hardly touched his own food. Not that it mattered much. Baekhyun could eat for the both of them.

“Did he,” Chanyeol stopped halfway through. What possible way could he phrase it without sounding like a jerk?

“You're wondering if he pulled any funny business with you.” Yeah, he could put it that way. Chanyeol nodded again.

     Baekhyun chuckled to himself. Chanyeol probably would have found his amusement more annoying if he didn't think that the guy was so damn attractive. “It's not always total manipulation, on his part. Even Minseok can't make you feel something that's not there. There has to be the underlying feeling.” Another spoonful of soup. “So, if Minseok managed to coax you into kissing him and probably fucking him if I hadn't walked in, it's because you wanted to, at least to some degree.” Baekhyun seemed entirely unfazed by the prospect of his new recruit and what Chanyeol thought must have been a reasonably long-term friend of his having sex upon first meeting each other. But then again, could anything about the situation be classified as normal?

“The mind reading though, he never really turns that off. Not sure he can, just so you know.” Oh. Well that explained a lot.

     Baekhyun glanced at his watch now. He took one last sip of his cola, blotted a napkin against his spice stained lips, and gently brushed the bits of stray rice away before addressing his partner. “It's time to go. We have a schedule to keep.” Just when we was getting ready to stand, however, Chanyeol broke his brief silence.

“What if I say no to all of this? What happens then?” he questioned meekly. He recalled being told that he could decline Baekhyun's generous invitation. Although, he never went into the specifics. He clearly hadn't expected Chanyeol to object.

“I've never heard of anyone refusing before, and if you're about to,” he clicked a sharp fingernail against his glass, eyes serious and steady, “then you clearly have no idea what I'm offering you here.” He folded his hands neatly on the table, making certain that every aspect of Chanyeol's focus was on him and what he was saying. “You're already dead,” he stated bluntly. “There's no changing that. You can't go back. You can't right your wrongs or make it better, can't prevent it. But if you come with me, if you work hard and do well, you will become something you could never have even imagined. You'll be powerful, Chanyeol, immortal.”

“By killing people.” It was an enticing offer. Most are, and Chanyeol figured that Baekhyun had had quite a bit of time to perfect his whole spiel on the merits of becoming a god, but Chanyeol spent his life protecting others. He had no intention of spending his afterlife (if it can even be called such a thing) taking away the most precious gift a person has in this world.

“It's not just about killing people.” His voice was disdainful, almost as if Chanyeol had insulted Baekhyun on a deeply personal level. The way Chanyeol saw it, they were called death gods for a very valid reason.

“Not everyone is ready to die when I come to them. It's not always their time. When that happens, when it's not their time, I save them. I bring them back. _That_ is what I do. _That_ is what you would be doing if you could step off your fucking high horse for a fresh minute and look at the bigger picture.” His face had smoothed back into the same calm expression from before. Practiced calm. Forced calm. Chanyeol wondered how often he needed to use it in order to hide what he was truly feeling.

“How do you know when it's not their time?” Chanyeol looked away from Baekhyun's dark eyes in favor of staring at the wall instead.

     Baekhyun sighed, his rigid shoulders going slack as his body slumped in the seat ever so slightly. “You just do, Chanyeol. It's not something I can explain. You just know.” He stood finally, his eyes on the watch again.

“Now come on. If you're so set on saying no, I'm at least going to give you the crash course first.”

 

      **The first place Baekhyun took Chanyeol to was a little hospital on the lower east side of Seoul.** It was old. He couldn't tell how old, exactly, just that it was and that it had needed updating a decade or so ago. This aside, it was probably the coziest healthcare center he had ever ventured into. The humans couldn't see them now, which was quite the boggle to Chanyeol in any case, but he could tell by their faces that they were nicer than most doctors and nurses. They seemed more dedicated to their jobs, less about herding people in and out of the building for a profit. Everyone seemed happier, in a way.

     The hallway Baekhyun led him down looked so much like the one in Minseok’s morgue. It was startling at first, really, but it wasn't darkened or ominous. There were people here, too, which made it a lot more bearable to the younger. There were few rooms in the hallway, most of which were open and vacant. One door at the far end, though, was not, and Chanyeol was sure that's the one they were heading to.

     He would probably never get used to floating through doors and walls and into different places entirely. In fact, the first time, he had quite literally flipped his shit. It was evidently the height of amusement for his jackass of a mentor. Nevertheless, he followed Baekhyun through the thin, sliding pane of artificial wood and translucent paper and into the room behind it.

     It was more spacious inside than he would have assumed, with a simple lifting medical bed, two stiff-backed chairs, and a personal bathroom that appeared younger than the room itself. A young couple, maybe Chanyeol’s age but no older, had overtaken the chairs below the window sill. The woman was beautiful. Her skin was smooth and clear, her hair long and as black as ink. Her eyes were large and doll-like, but they were also swollen with tears. Thin tear tracks lined her cheeks, leaving blotches of red in their wake. Her hands were clasped together with those of her husband, or so he appeared to be. He wasn't as attractive as the woman was, but he had a trustworthy gaze. His face was likeable enough. He wore an army uniform, the jacket and hat shrugged off and placed to the side.

     Chanyeol’s eyes followed the direction of the man’s attention. He almost didn't see it. The small bundle in the middle of the bed, so tiny and vulnerable. The boy must have only been about three or four. He was hooked up to various machines with bundles of wires and tubes, an IV taped to the back of his gentle hand. He looked like his mother, Chanyeol thought.

“Yoon Minjae. Born October 13th, 2013.” Baekhyun stared at the little boy with that expression of careful indifference. Chanyeol knew that's what it was this time. He knew that it was all a facade.

“What happened to him?” Chanyeol managed. His voice wavered. He was shocked that he had managed to keep it steady for this long.

“Car accident. The guy was drunk, didn't see their car. He died on impact. The parents are fine, but,” he placed his hands in the pockets of his woolen pea coat. “The kid has been here for a week. He's barely holding on.”

     A weight dropped in the pit of Chanyeol's stomach like pure lead. What food Chanyeol did eat at the restaurant was now threatening to come back up, and Baekhyun's feigned nonchalance was doing absolutely nothing help. He couldn't look at this boy, this child, and know what was about to happen to him. He didn't want to be there to witness it.

“Baekhyun, no. I-”

“Go up to him.”

“What?”

“Just do it, Chanyeol. Go up to him, and place your hand above his head,” Baekhyun said calmly. How in the hell could he just ask Chanyeol to-

“No. I won't do it. I won't do _that_.” Chanyeol was persistent, but Baekhyun had many years on him.

“You don't know what in the hell I’m asking you to do,” Baekhyun snapped. He removed his hands from the coat, pointed his index finger directly at Minjae. “Place your hand over his head and feel what he is trying to tell you. You won't hurt him. Trust me on this one.” His eyes were earnest. Gone were all traces of his former lightness and playfulness, replaced by a firm countenance, his voice as solid as steel.

     Chanyeol did so, reluctantly. His palms were large, and all together, his hand was about the size of Minjae’s head. A tuft of black hair poked out from beneath the bandage wound around his head. Chanyeol chose not to think about what would have warranted the bandage in the first place.

“Feel, Chanyeol. Open up your mind.” If he would have been blessed at that moment with any number of smartass remarks, he would've shot them off so fast Baekhyun's head would spin. He didn't, though, so he closed his eyes and focused on the faint beeping of the heart monitor beside his head. There was nothing, at first, but the rhythm of the monitor. Then, he felt it.

     It was like a floodgate had burst open inside of his head. There was a sudden rush of new information and memories and complex feelings that Chanyeol knew but couldn't process or compute as his own. He just knew they weren't his, and that was how he was able to distinguish them from his own. He saw the young boy’s life in pictures, snippets of the things he did, felt, who he loved. He could feel Minjae fighting to survive, to open his eyes and see his parents faces before him. He could feel everything.

“Control it. Figure it out. Is he ready to die?” Baekhyun’s voice sounded so far away at that moment.

“Baekhyun.”

“Chanyeol. Is Minjae ready to die? Is it his time to go?”

“No.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

     Chanyeol could hear the satisfied hum of approval. He could imagine the smile etching its way across Baekhyun’s sculpted features. There was the sound of something shifting, and when Chanyeol opened his eyes again, Baekhyun was standing right next to him, his hand drifting purposefully over the position of Minjae’s heart. It was still beating weakly within his body.

     A burst of white light exploded from the center of Baekhyun’s fist, glowing, lighting the child’s chest up like the pale moon in the sky. He could see the light in the man’s veins, extending up his wrist and disappearing beneath the cuff of his sleeve. It was just like his own network of cold blue threads, and Chanyeol reached out to touch them, to trace them and map them out with the brush of his fingertips. The light was gone before he could try.

     Baekhyun finally retracted after another moment or two. “He’ll live.” The pressure in Chanyeol’s body seemed to release with a jolt. “We should go before he wakes up. Private moment and all.”

     Chanyeol nodded mutely.

“Oh, and Chanyeol.” Baekhyun paused on the way to the door, as Chanyeol did just behind him. “Welcome to the ranks. You're one of us now."

 

     Adjusting to the life of a death god’s apprentice was easier than Chanyeol had originally suspected. It was also simpler, as crazy as it sounded. Baekhyun was an easy boss to please. Though death could occur at any time of the day - or night, sadly - all Chanyeol had to do was follow along. Watch, listen, and learn. Sometimes, it wasn't for saving people. Most of the time it wasn't.

     The first time had been the hardest, granted. Kim Jong Myung, a middle aged man with a dedicated wife and two grown daughters, was Chanyeol’s first. He was in charge of a construction site somewhere in Jung-gu at the time of his death. Most of his workers were barely out of their teens, twenty-something-year-olds with young, muscled bodies and a touch too much arrogance to be considered mature by average standards. Still, Jong Myung weighed experience against youth. He attempted to do what the young men did on a daily basis and found out too late how bad of an idea it was. He died because of his own foolishness, but it didn't make the situation any less tragic.

     Chanyeol connected to Jong Myung the same as he did with Minjae. He saw his memories, he felt his emotions, but contrary to the young boy, he didn't fight for life. He was already too far gone, and whatever part of the man that could accept that fact did. The light was similar. Saving a person and ending their suffering really didn't feel that different, after all, and Chanyeol felt another kind of relief when Kim Jong Myung’s eyelids finally fluttered closed for good. He hadn't taken a life on his own yet, but he realized in that moment that he could learn how to.

     One thing he had never really considered, never imagined in his wildest imaginations, was that he was due to live with his mentor, at least for the time being. Chanyeol couldn't tell if that was a general rule of the trade, or if it was Baekhyun’s attempt at convenience. He had no other apprentice-in-training to use as a reference. He had only met one other death god in the duration of his and Baekhyun’s three and a half weeks together. Song Qian was a friend of Baekhyun’s, rather than a god that worked in the area, specifically. Her beauty was that of the quiet sort, the kind that didn't make a spectacle of itself like Baekhyun's did, although it was still incredibly obvious to anyone with eyes. (Seriously, there are no ugly gods, are there?) Her kindness was overflowing. She greeted Chanyeol with a warm smile and gentle hug, even though they had never once met before. But she was also strong, and anyone that would dare to underestimate her deserved whatever was coming to them. She had never taken an apprentice.

     He anticipated a mansion, affluent and flashy with copious amounts of grandeur. Maybe it was on an island somewhere, like Fiji or Hawaii. Baekhyun could teleport anywhere he wanted, so why would he settle for living in the city? What he didn't expect was the most average two bedroom apartment in all of Haebangchon to be where he resided. It wasn't all that tidy. Maybe he was expecting that. It also wasn't very personal. There were no pictures. No cool artifacts from the previous centuries Baekhyun had lived through. Nothing at all to suggest that he was anything beyond a normal college student. When Chanyeol confronted him about it, he merely shrugged and said that he liked his Hatsune Miku posters and his Attack on Titan figurines, what few he had, and that he didn't need anything more than that. It made it easier when he had to move every few years. Apprentices didn't get a salary for things like decorating their bedrooms, but Baekhyun immediately handed him some money on their first night together for that very purpose.

     He found a small box of old photographs and relics hidden in the bottom of Baekhyun's closet in the second week, when Chanyeol had grown brave enough to more thoroughly explore the place. Thankfully, the other tended to take ridiculously long showers, in which he sang the latest hits at a decibel loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear. The box was how Chanyeol figured out that Baekhyun once had a younger sister. There were no pictures from that time, for obvious reasons, but there was a pair of her earrings in the box, drawings of her and their family, and pictures from her most recent reincarnations. Baekhyun had a death certificate for each one, likely dating back to the availability of printed death certificates in Korea. Chanyeol realized why Baekhyun kept it all hidden. Immortality was probably a lot easier if you could ignore what you were losing along the way. He never told Baekhyun about finding his belongings, either. Some things were better left unspoken.

     Baekhyun was also a pretty easy roommate to deal with, all things considered. Chanyeol had an older sister, so he was used to cleaning up messes at home. Sharing an apartment with the person you work with was already convenient. And surprisingly, Baekhyun was alright at respecting boundaries, though sometimes Chanyeol wished there were no boundaries. Like when Baekhyun walked around their home in oversized t-shirts and too tight boxer briefs, his white legs on display for the whole damn world to see. Or when he was so frustratingly forward and allusive at the same time or when-

“What are you thinking about?” Baekhyun questioned from his spot on the opposite side of the couch, his eyes twinkling with mischief. If Chanyeol had anything to be thankful for, it was that Baekhyun couldn't read his mind like Minseok could.

“Nothing,” he lied, turning away to look at the cheesy daytime drama Baekhyun had turned on. That was his other obsession, besides Hatsune Miku and anime. He didn't know why he thought that someone as old as Baekhyun would be some kind of weirdo technophobe. Baekhyun couldn't survive two days without his flat screen.

“Hmm, sure.” Baekhyun didn't believe him, Chanyeol knew. It didn't matter, though, because he still couldn't read his mind.

“By the way, we still on for fried chicken and beer tonight?” It was their standing dinner date on Thursday nights, their only designated night off during the week.

“Of course.”

     Baekhyun smiled at him, and Chanyeol was sure that he could get used to it.

 

 **Their fried chicken and beer place was underneath a billowing orange tent on the Han River.** The friendly little ahjumma knew Baekhyun by name, and now she knew Chanyeol, too. The beer was okay, though Chanyeol preferred soju on most nights. The chicken was always fantastic. Friendly ahjumma claimed that it was tasty because it was made with love. Chanyeol believed her.

“So what did he do then?”

“Obviously, he kind of freaked out. But once he calmed down, he agreed not to tell the whole soccer team what had happened.” Chanyeol blushed at the sudden trip down memory lane. Everyone looks back at their high school years with a certain degree of embarrassment, but Chanyeol was a particularly awkward teenager and is certainly entitled to more consideration than the average person.

“And what made you think that it was a good idea to tell an obviously straight guy _with a girlfriend_ that you love him?” Baekhyun was already flushed and cackling more than laughing. Apparently, death gods can also get hammered.

“Well, my best friend, Sehun, convinced me that when true love is real, you have to follow where it takes you. Mine brought me to the guy’s house at three o’clock in the morning to blast love songs at his window.”

“Oh hell.”

“Yeah. I didn't realize that Sehun was joking until after his older brother had already beat the shit out of me.”

     Baekhyun sloshed his drink around as he laughed. There were tears in his eyes, and he reached up to wipe them away before pouring another glass for Chanyeol. The pitcher was almost empty now, so Baekhyun called for another.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Chanyeol chuckled. He felt just pleasantly tipsy at this point. He wasn't sure that he wanted to be drunk around Baekhyun. He had too many secrets to let slip.

     Baekhyun released a mock huff. “I would not.”

“You so would.”

“I so would.”

 

      **It was nearly two by the time they made it back to the apartment.** Baekhyun fumbled slightly with the lock, but that was the only clue that he had been drinking at all. He suspected either a sky high alcohol tolerance (another perk he had found since coming back to life), or that he had been busier shoveling drinks down Chanyeol’s throat than taking them for himself.

“Channie.” Okay, that was new. “Let's finish that movie we started last night. It's too early for sleep.” Chanyeol would beg to differ given that they would both be on-duty again the following morning, but something about the look in Baekhyun's eyes had him following along with whatever he was told to do.

“Yeah, alright.”

     There wasn't much to set up. Baekhyun believed firmly in the idea of Netflix over renting, so that's where they watched ninety-nine percent of their shared films. Chanyeol was more old fashioned, ironically. He enjoyed the whole process of physically renting a movie. He let it slide for Baekhyun. The elder sang quietly to himself as he slipped back into the room, clad in a pair of designer boxer briefs and a cute cartoon whale shirt that fell just below his ass cheeks. He seriously had no clue what he was doing to Chanyeol.

     Baekhyun dropped down on the leather couch with a decisive plop. He reached to grab the remote from the table, his back dipping low as he stretched forward. It was almost sinful to see. But not quite sinful enough for Chanyeol.

“Let's get it started then, shall we?” All Chanyeol could do was hum lightly in response. He didn't trust himself to talk without saying something stupid. Baekhyun had all the power here.

     Chanyeol didn't pay enough attention to know what was going on within the plot line. It was an English movie, for starters. If he didn't watch the subtitles - which Baekhyun had so graciously turned on - flying by, then he would have no clue. And just to be fair, he wasn't paying attention when they started the movie. He was too busy trying to look interested in the screen and keep his eyes off of the holy grail sitting beside him to actually acknowledge much else. Baekhyun, the one actually seeming to pay attention, was the one that didn't need to. He had already seen the movie a half dozen times and spoke English fluently with one of those barely-there accents.

     When Chanyeol allowed himself the opportunity to check, however, Baekhyun was not looking at the screen. Baekhyun was looking at him, his eyes deliberate and steady with a feeling that Chanyeol couldn't decipher.

“Something wrong?” he questioned hesitantly. Baekhyun could be unpredictable. That much, he had learned.

“Do you think I'm blind?” The man's voice was thick, altered slightly by an accent common to the southern coast. He couldn't control it, sometimes, like when he was drunk or too excited or just emotional. They had never talked about it, but Chanyeol figured that something like that must be ingrained in a person, especially if said person had spent his whole life there prior to his death.

“What? Why would you say that?” He wasn't sure if he liked where this was going.

“I see the way you look at me. I know how you feel. Why have you never said it before?” He scooted closer to Chanyeol, his body language vaguely predatory.

“How did you? I-”

“Because I'm really not blind.” He balled up a hand in Chanyeol's simple logo shirt, staring up at the taller male with dark, lustrous eyes. “Minseok also may have filled me in on the root of his pissiness a few weeks ago. Your thoughts are very flattering, actually. I wish you'd say those kinds of things in person.”

     Chanyeol just about mentioned the fact that Baekhyun was missing the word _personal_ in congruence with his private thoughts, but he didn't. Mainly because: 1. This is happening right now and 2. Baekhyun most definitely knew about Chanyeol's crush, considering the lack of a better term, for weeks already. Scratch his previous mental statement. Baekhyun had known what he was doing to Chanyeol all along.

“I was waiting for you to say something, but I'm beginning to think you're oblivious.” He was blunt about it, at least.

     Chanyeol internally begged for a quick comeback to knock Baekhyun off of his bare ass feet. Again, his wish was left unfulfilled. It turned out, however, a response wasn’t necessary. Baekhyun took care of that for him, too. With a quick whoosh of motion, the petite man was straddling his lap, legs clenched around his waist and two dainty hands planted firmly against his upper chest. His soft pout of a mouth was quick to descend upon Chanyeol's, as well. A shot of electricity raced up his spine when their lips finally touched. It had been too long, really. Too long for Chanyeol to be wanting, too long for Baekhyun to be teasing, just too damn long in general. He really was the most oblivious ~~person~~ death god apprentice on the face of the Earth.

     It wasn't slow. It was hot and delicious as Baekhyun moved his mouth against Chanyeol’s at a fervent, desperate pace. Chanyeol, though, was the first to deepen it. He leaned even closer, licking a stripe along the seam of Baekhyun's lips. He groaned softly once Baekhyun yielded, giving him full access and then some. But Baekhyun wasn't easy. Their tongues danced and battled for dominance, a kind of stirring protest that Chanyeol had never really experienced before. Baekhyun was feisty, too. He liked to tease, pulling away every now and again just to get a rise out of Chanyeol and nipping at his bottom lip whenever he felt the urge to. His hands rested on the younger’s waist, right underneath his shirt. His short fingernails raked up and down the available expanse of skin and sometimes they scratched a little harder but never enough to cause any sort of pain. Chanyeol was winning the entire time, they both knew. Baekhyun enjoyed the push and pull, liked to put on a good show, but Chanyeol could tell that he didn't want the dominance. He just wanted Chanyeol to take it from him.

     Baekhyun removed himself from Chanyeol's lap with the grace of an exotic feline. He dropped to his knees just the same and reached out to rub up and down Chanyeol’s long thighs with a confident smirk.

“Not so oblivious now.” He digged his fingers a little deeper, brought them a little higher. Never to the place Chanyeol wanted them.

“Kind of hard to be oblivious at this point. I’d have to be a complete idiot.” Keeping his voice even and intelligible was just about the most difficult thing Chanyeol had ever done. He succeeded, though, even as Baekhyun slowly dragged his zipper down.

     He laughed generously. “Then I'm glad you're so smart.”

     Chanyeol was most certainly growing hard by this point. He could feel it. Baekhyun could feel it. But that didn’t mean that Baekhyun was the only one that could have the power.

“So, this is why you were trying to get me drunk earlier.” The laugh working its way out died in his throat when Baekhyun reached inside of his pants to palm him completely, skin against skin. Baekhyun's hand was impossibly warm and soft. He was like Chanyeol's greatest fantasy on steroids and if the look on his face was any indication, he damn well knew it. Chanyeol fought back another moan.

“Does it look like I need you drunk?”

     Baekhyun yanked the jeans and boxers right down Chanyeol’s legs, tossing both articles aside with very little care. His skin was tinted a bright pink shade in several places due to the smaller male’s impatience, but all Chanyeol could think of was how grateful he was that he never bothered to wear socks or shoes in the apartment. It would have taken away several precious seconds to pry them off.

     Chanyeol was fully erect now, standing tall and proud in all of his glory. Even Baekhyun made an appreciative noise before taking him in his hand again. He gave a few lax pumps initially, staring up at Chanyeol with that smirk from before. He knew what was coming, the teasing little shit. Or maybe he didn't. Baekhyun took the head in his mouth as if it was his favorite flavor of lollipop. He sucked, dug his sharp tongue into Chanyeol’s slit, and bobbed deeper, pulling off every few minutes to give Chanyeol’s balls the same attention. He went as far as he dared and used his hand to cover the remaining ground, fingers wrapped gently around the base as Chanyeol lost himself more and more to Baekhyun's skillful tongue. There were few instances in which Chanyeol had ever been on the receiving end of a blowjob, even fewer the other way around, but he knew for a fact that this was the best one he had ever been given. He forced himself, with great difficulty, not to buck up into the other's mouth. It seemed as though Baekhyun had anticipated just that, with the empty hand currently pinning Chanyeol’s hip to the seat.

     Baekhyun snickered along to the displeased groan Chanyeol released when he moved away slightly, letting his hand take over what his mouth had been doing just a second before. He paid close attention to the vein running along the underside of Chanyeol's cock with his thumb. That was when his breathy grunts and soft moans were at their loudest. He wasn't ordinarily so vocal, and he in no way attributed his increased range of sounds solely to the newly discovered ultra-sensitivity that Minseok had mentioned to him weeks ago, but rather Baekhyun's otherworldly ability to turn him into a bumbling mess of a man with just a well placed glance.

“You're- ah- really good at this.” His fingers were clamped tightly around the back of the couch, anchoring him in place because holy hell. How can Baekhyun even do that?

“I've had a smidgen of practice in my time,” he supplied nonchalantly. Baekhyun was really the only person Chanyeol could still find so sexy saying the word _smidgen_.

     He could feel the tightening deep within him, constricting, getting ready to boil over. He knew that he would come if Baekhyun kept it up. Understandably, Baekhyun did too, which is why he stopped his motion all together. Chanyeol's chest shook with another piercing groan that probably sounded more like a sob than anything else.

“Why? Why did you stop?”

“Because we're not done yet,” Baekhyun replied firmly. He stood, shimmied his ass out of the underwear and pulled the shirt off with a shrug, dropping both to the ground. He climbed back on top of Chanyeol, who could only marvel at the other’s perfectly unblemished skin and adorable pinkish nipples. He understood why Baekhyun had done it. Just because he couldn't keep touching Chanyeol, didn't mean Chanyeol couldn't touch Baekhyun. Baekhyun was just as hard as Chanyeol was and looked to be on the verge of downright begging for his care. Chanyeol kissed down the smooth column of Baekhyun's neck, taking his time on the way. He took one of Baekhyun's nipples in his mouth, sucking and teasing the way Baekhyun usually did. He nibbled gently, tongue circling, pulling unabashed moans directly from his mouth as a result. Chanyeol offered the other the same exact treatment, before finally tracing his fingers down the man’s tightly muscled stomach and gliding his hand up and down Baekhyun's shaft with dexterity.

     Baekhyun was a bit smaller than Chanyeol, even in that respect, but he was no less impressive. Where Chanyeol was all hard muscle and rigid lines, Baekhyun had a bit of soft curve working for him, especially in his hips and plush thighs. He was the epitome of all things desirable in the eyes of his apprentice. Chanyeol worked him over well. He was thorough, and it was only a matter of minutes before he was crying out, pushing Chanyeol away slightly so he wouldn't come early either.

“A room. Let's get to a room,” Baekhyun huffed against the side of Chanyeol's neck.

“Yours or mine?” Chanyeol was just as strung out as Baekhyun.

“Doesn't matter.”

     With that in mind, Chanyeol pulled Baekhyun closer, hooking his hands at the junction of where his ass cheeks met his thighs so he could more easily carry him. Baekhyun got the hint. He wrapped his legs around Chanyeol's hips as soon as he stood up, his arms moving to do the same around the younger’s shoulders. Chanyeol didn't have time to consider. He moved straight towards Baekhyun's bedroom instead. Most people preferred to do it in their own bed. Whether or not Baekhyun was like most people, Chanyeol didn't know. He did know, at least, that Baekhyun was comfortable there.

     He wasn't graceful like Baekhyun. When he made to deposit him on the mattress, Chanyeol clamored right down with him. It made Baekhyun laugh to see his clumsiness in action. With a sharp pinch to the thigh in retaliation, however, he was quick to shut up.

     Chanyeol was on top of him already, could feel the heat, the desire between the both of them building up. He didn't want to wait. He wasn't patient. He wasn't on immortal god time yet. He was still very much on fleeting, impatient human time, and he used this to his advantage. When Baekhyun pulled back to readjust on the bed, Chanyeol rocked into him, the very cause of his impatience rubbing against Baekhyun's at a tantalizing tempo. Turns out Baekhyun wasn't too patient either. He bucked up against Chanyeol, fingers sinking into his biceps like they were talons. They sank lower, pressing into Chanyeol's lower back and ass to give them a better position as Baekhyun's legs clamped around him again. Chanyeol, though, enjoyed this idea of teasing that Baekhyun had going, because it seemed the more Baekhyun got worked up, the more incapable he was of continuing it on his own. Chanyeol was still level-headed enough to do the teasing for him.

“Damn it, Chanyeol. No. Get back here.” Baekhyun hissed as Chanyeol leaned down, licking a patch up the inside of his thigh. He was slow, deliberate. This wasn't just teasing. This was payback for all of the nights Chanyeol had spent in the shower, attempting to stifle his self-induced moans because Baekhyun had decided to traipse around in his tight, little underwear. His fingers drew over Baekhyun's knees, brushing higher and higher. Baekhyun arched off the sheets with a high pitched mewl.

“Shit, Chan- ah,” it sounded more like a screech this time when Chanyeol drifted even farther up, “Lube. There's lube - hnn - in the drawer.”

     He paused momentarily to follow the finger pointed towards the bedside table. It, just like everything else in the room, was standard and made with minimal detail. There was a silver lamp that looked to be touch-activated and a miniature potted plant on the top, but nothing else besides the one drawer. It didn't take long for Chanyeol to reach in and find exactly what he was looking for. It came in the form of a small clear bottle with cotton candy colored writing scribbled across the label. It was half empty, and Chanyeol knew for a fact that Baekhyun hadn't been with anyone else in a good while. He could only imagine what Baekhyun had been doing alone with the product. He popped the the cap open with his thumb. The sickeningly sweet scent hit him almost immediately.

     What kind of self-respecting god uses bubblegum scented lube, anyway? Apparently Baekhyun.

     He poured a fair amount of the substance on his fingers, slicking them up and then tossing the bottle to the side, still within reach. Baekhyun spread his legs around Chanyeol without having to be asked. Chanyeol had never thought too much about dominance and submissiveness and how one could specifically be hotter than the other, but Baekhyun being so pliant and willing with his body was another matter entirely. He smeared the cool liquid gently along the outside of Baekhyun’s twitching, pink rim. He glanced up at Baekhyun, seeking contact, confirmation.

“Okay?” he asked, though he already knew what the other's response would be.

     Baekhyun nodded, eyes lidded with lust as he tried to push himself onto Chanyeol's finger. With that, he adjusted one hand on the eager male’s hip to keep him down and slid the single finger in, up to the knuckle. He knew what it felt like. Sehun had convinced him way back when they were still in high school to give it a try because supposedly, you can't say that you dislike something if you never try it out. Chanyeol admitted to that logic and eventually even ended up indulging it on occasion. That was how he knew that the first finger was always the most uncomfortable and awkward.

     Baekhyun was quick to adjust, and soon, Chanyeol was adding a second, scissoring and fanning them out in preparation for a third. He looked positively wrecked already, splayed out on the plain white sheets with thoroughly debauched hair and skin glistening with sweat. It brought Chanyeol back to his previous thought of the elder actually being an angel.

“You're beautiful.” He added the third finger and distracted Baekhyun with delicate butterfly kisses to the collarbone.

     He managed a tired laugh, looking up at Chanyeol with a moisture in his eyes that hadn't been there before. “I know. Minseok told me all about it, remember?”

     Chanyeol grunted, spreading his fingers out inside of Baekhyun as to not hurt him later on. “I'm totally going to get him back for that later.”

“Why? He helped you win my favor.”

“Does it look like I need the help?” Chanyeol mimicked with a rather deep jab. He knew that he had already found Baekhyun's prostrate from the way he was shaking and crying out beneath him, struggling to even form coherent thoughts.

“Clearly not,” Baekhyun choked out, and Chanyeol grinned in satisfaction. “It's the thought that counts, I suppose.” He let a loud, devastated moan. Chanyeol decided it was as good a time as any other and withdrew his fingers with a squelch of lube against already wet skin.

“In me,” he mumbled. He was clutching at every bit of Chanyeol he could get his hands on. “Please, Chanyeol.”

     He didn't need to be told twice, especially since he could probably get off on the sound of Baekhyun begging alone. He reached down, taking his own cock and pumping it with the excess lubricant before positioning against Baekhyun's stretched hole. He nudged, catching his tip on the rim. Baekhyun squirmed, wanting so badly to be filled and pounded into that it was bordering painful. Chanyeol put him out of his misery.

     Baekhyun engulfed him with the tightness of a virgin. It shouldn't have been possible, and yet it made so much sense. Baekhyun didn't age. He would be stuck with the body and face of a twenty-five year old for the rest of his many, many years, until he finally decided to retire from the position of being a minor god. It made sense that everything else would stay the same too. It made Chanyeol wonder. If he made marks on Baekhyun's body, if Baekhyun did the same to him, would they still be there in the morning?

     He stilled, allowing the smaller male to fully adjust. With the tightness of a virgin came the pain of one. The heat was unimaginable. Even better than the warmth of his hands and his mouth and skin. It was incredible, and so very difficult for Chanyeol to hold out with. He wanted to pound into him already, destroy him with his own lust and pleasure and the sensitivity they were all evidently blessed with, but he would never hurt Baekhyun if he could help it. So he stayed still until Baekhyun opened his eyes and told him to move.

     Baekhyun threw his head back against his pillow with the first deep plunge. He secured himself with his ankles around the backs of Chanyeol's thighs, pleading with him to go faster, harder. He was still hurting, Chanyeol knew, but he was also careless. He was willing to deal with the pain as long as he could have everything else at the same time. Chanyeol wasn't a careless person, so he took his time, set a steady pace that was already too much for the both of them. Baekhyun keened anyway, dragging his blunt nails down the sides of Chanyeol’s torso. If there were marks, he really wanted them to be there in the morning. He wanted to see the physical proof that this had happened.

     He started to make marks of his own, too. Starting right beneath Baekhyun's ear, he pecked, sucked, nibbled his way down to the man’s shoulder, all while maintaining the pace he had set. When he finished, Baekhyun's white skin was dotted with blotches of scarlets, deepening into light purples in certain places. He figured Baekhyun was well and adjusted by this point, so when he let out another string of pleases and mores, Chanyeol appeased. He flipped the two of them over, laying flat on his back as he gave Baekhyun all the power in the world to do what he wanted.

     Chanyeol might have liked that better, with the way in which Baekhyun rolled his hips, meeting Chanyeol's every thrust midway. It gave him the perfect view of his body. He was glad that Baekhyun wasn't the shy type. He was the last person that ever needed to be shy with such beautiful skin and curves and everything. They were both loud, moaning messes. Chanyeol thought that Baekhyun must have been a vocal person in bed on any given day, but with the added tension between the two of them lately and the whole teetering on the subject of their mutual sexual desires thing, the result was explosive.

     Baekhyun kept a ruthless tempo. He cared less about dragging it out than immediate gratification. It was amazing to Chanyeol how quickly his tune had changed from his drawn-out touching and flirting to how he was at that specific moment, thrusting down quick and sharp against Chanyeol’s cock while he cried out. He was growing tired, though. His legs shook with the effort it took to keep him upright, even with Chanyeol's hands and body to support him. He was also slowing down, steadily.

“Chan.” His voice was broken, scratchy. Chanyeol knew what he wanted, what he needed.

     He flipped them over again, pulling out to slam back into Baekhyun with the intensity he had wanted before. Over and over again until they were falling apart together. Chanyeol knew that he was close, knew that Baekhyun was, too. He kept one hand on Baekhyun’s hip, using the other to reach between them and jerk him off at the same time his own hips met Baekhyun's round, pert ass. Beads of sweat collected on his brow, rolled down his chest and into the indents of his abs.

     Baekhyun came first, arching off of the bed with an impressive scream as he painted his stomach and Chanyeol’s with ribbons of white. His body was humming with traces of his orgasm, but he continued to meet the thrusts as best as he could. Chanyeol burst inside of Baekhyun seconds later.

     He pulled out, watching for a minute as the liquid flowed freely from Baekhyun's hole along with whatever lube was still left. Then, he flopped down on the mattress beside him. He didn't know how long they stayed there, breathing labored and muscles spent. He didn't even need to breathe. Neither of them did, so it must have been an automatic response. Maybe it had been five minutes, maybe fifteen for all he knew, but just as Chanyeol was about to get up and retrieve a damp washcloth from the bathroom to clean Baekhyun up with, the small male spoke.

“I was there when you died, you know.” Chanyeol turned his head to look at him, but Baekhyun was purposefully avoiding his eyes. It was something he had thought about, figured might be the truth. Chanyeol died in his domain, on a day he certainly would have been working. It was likely that Baekhyun would have been called out for the job.

“You've never asked about it, so I won't tell you how it happened. It was messy though. Your friends were there. They were freaking out. I had never seen a group of such manly looking men crying like that. I could tell how much they cared about you.”

     Chanyeol turned away this time. He didn't know how he felt about hearing it. He had thought that not asking would have made it easier. Like Baekhyun had said, he was already dead. He couldn't go back. Maybe he could make a separation there if he tried hard enough. Things from his life and things happening in his immortality.

“I went up to you, like always, and I knew what had to happen. But I saw your memories and your emotions and I saw _you_. I knew what kind of a man you were. I couldn't just leave you to die.” Baekhyun sucked in a breath, like he wasn't sure he should be talking about it or couldn't, maybe. Chanyeol felt between their bodies, intertwining their hands together. Baekhyun glanced at him appreciatively.

“I bargained,” he continued. “Most death gods take several apprentices after so many years. I never have before, but I saw your potential. I convinced the Elders to bring you back.”

“Why are you telling me this all of a sudden?”

“Because, gods don't date. There's hardly ever the opportunity to. We don't love. We're made to kill or save but never actually to be happy.” Baekhyun’s fingers tightened around Chanyeol's. “I don't know how to do this. I had no idea it would turn out like this when I first saved you, but Chanyeol, this is how I feel about you.” Chanyeol wasn't used to seeing him so serious. Baekhyun kept their hands together and turned on his side so that Chanyeol could really see his face, see that he meant every single word he said. “I don't know how this is supposed to work, but if that's what you want, if you're willing to try, then I am too.”

“And you think I'm the idiot here.” It was Chanyeol's turn to laugh at the affronted look on Baekhyun's face. Of all the stupid, oblivious things Baekhyun could possibly think to question.

“Hey-”

“Yes.”

     Baekhyun halted his protest, the shock evident in his eyes. “Yes?”

“Yes, Baekhyun. Yes.”

 

      **Death is a funny thing.** It's never easy, whether it's waking up on a metal slab in the morgue or using it as a means to end another's suffering, and Gods only know how impossible it is to become one. But some parts, the parts Baekhyun left out of his speech, like waking up with someone so amazing and gorgeous in your arms every morning (and finding that scratches and love bites are not so quick to heal), or spending your days with the same beautiful god, searching the city and saving people with the most unusual of tactics, make it all worthwhile. Park Chanyeol still has a long way to go. He is and might always be the same kind hearted, overly dedicated petty officer of the South Korean Navy, but now, he has a different goal to work towards. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you become a god of death.

**Author's Note:**

> As I said before, there will be an upcoming sequel. Make sure that you subscribe so you know when that's out, and thank you all so much for reading!


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